


Under his dress, under his skin

by StardustCoeur (SolivagantSleepyhead)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (but they haven't confessed to each other yet lmao), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Misgendering, Slight emotional abuse, Trans Sugawara Koushi, Transphobia, implied daisuga, it ends happily i promise!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolivagantSleepyhead/pseuds/StardustCoeur
Summary: "Some days were much better than others. After all, it was a process in and of itself, and though they were less common, the bad days were still there. But, unfortunately, when contrasting with the recent streak of relative okay-ness, the bad days seemed much worse than they’d ever been before."----Suga is an AFAB transboy whose parents are accepting but actually pretty ignorant. So, when he's forced to dress up like a girl and go by his dead name for a family event, things go predictably horrible. Luckily, Daichi is there to look out for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is pretty self-indulgent lmao. I based it off of my experiences with my own relatives/my father and his ignorance (although my situation never ended as well as the one I wrote aaaaAAAAA) 
> 
> Also, for his dead name, I wanted to keep the first symbol/meaning generally the same, but, with kanji, each symbol can be read in multiple different ways. So, the the the (孝) symbol meaning “filial piety” which gives his true name the “Ko” sound is actually pronounced as “Taka” in his dead name, “Takako” (孝子). This is neither important nor relevant, but it took me 2,000 years to think of and i want!!!! recognition!!!!!!!!

It was getting easier these days, that was for sure. Nearly gone was the uncertainty of his early adolescence, a new feeling of self-acceptance taking its place and allowing Suga to put everything he had into caring for his team, even if he didn’t get the chance to participate as much as he would have liked to. Gender dysphoria was still a daily struggle, but it wasn’t as crushing as it had been back when he was a first year—standing 5’4 in his baggy, oversized uniform, his chest binder constricting his lungs but obscuring his pubescent curves from view. Now, when he caught sight of his nude body in the bathroom mirror, he didn’t instinctively cringe at the sight of his swelling chest as he once did. There was still the intrinsic feeling of wrongness, but it was _his_ body, and he was a man no matter how others might try to label him. He knew who he was, and that was what mattered; that was what got him through to the end of the day.

Of course, some days were much better than others. After all, it was a process in and of itself, and though they were less common, the bad days were still there. But, unfortunately, when contrasting with the recent streak of relative okay-ness, the bad days seemed much worse than they’d ever been before.

He knew that it was coming—he’d had it marked on the calendar so he wouldn’t forget, after all. Still, as he sat in bed staring mournfully at the dry-clean bag hanging off the back of his bedroom door, he wondered if he could just lay back down, shut his eyes, and wake up to find himself past it already. As he debated whether or not he could just play sick and call the whole thing off, he was jolted out of his anxious stupor by a sharp knock at the door, his mother’s uncertain voice calling out to him.

“Koushi, sweetie, are you awake? We’re leaving in an hour.”

Suga didn’t move, staring at the round shadows of her slippers in the sliver of light under the door. He knew that she was trying to be as considerate as she could, but, if she really cared, would she be making him go through with this? Would she be forcing him to do something he’d objected to so vehemently?

She sighed, her feet shifting against the laminate. “I know that this is hard for you, but you made a promise, Koushi. It’s just a few hours, so be downstairs by one o’clock, okay?”

He swallowed thickly, throat constricting tightly around nothing. Promised, huh? Could you really call it that?

It was less than a month ago when he’d come home from volleyball practice to find his parents sitting gravely at the kitchen table, waiting for him. They were tense and silent as his father beckoned him over, fixing Suga with a pained, uncomfortable expression, as if it were physically difficult for him to get the words out.

“Dad?” He’d asked, already fearing the worst. Was it a family emergency? Did someone die? They hadn’t visited with their extended family since back when he was... _well_ . Back before he knew who he was, really. Although he had a vague memory of a handful of aunts and cousins, specific names and faces had been obfuscated by time. He didn’t really _know_ any of them.

His father cleared his throat once, twice, making eye contact with his mother across the table. She nodded wordlessly, pulling her lower lip between pearly teeth.

“It appears that your eldest cousin is getting married, and they’ve asked us to attend the wedding.” He stated carefully, folding his hands atop the table. Face entirely too grim for the situation at hand.

“O...kay?” Suga laughed, feeling his shoulders relax slightly. “That’s great for her! I’d be fine with going. You really had me worried though, what with how weird you guys were being.”

His parents shared another uncomfortable look, his mother leaning forward to take Suga’s hands in her own. “The thing is...well, you know how old-fashioned they are.” She insisted, squeezing his fingers lightly. “And...that is...we never really got around to...to telling them about _you_.”

Suga furrowed his brow. Telling them about him? But he’d _met_ them, what did that—

Oh. _Oh_.

Sensing the recognition dawning on his son’s face, Suga’s father stepped in. “It’s not that we are ashamed of you, Koushi, I promise. We just do not wish to expose you to any unnecessary verbal abuse or harassment—which, partly, is why we have chosen not to interact with that side of the family much in the last several years.” He explained, eyes flashing with something like sympathy. “But family is important, and we would like it to be important to you, too. But, the only way we could do that for now is if you were to... _uh_ —”

“What are you saying.” Suga snapped. It was more accusation than inquiry, but Suga didn’t care how disrespectful he was being right now, cold, harsh anger biting at his gut.

His father was visibly taken aback, unaccustomed to seeing his polite son being so straight-forward. “If you were to just... _pretend_ , for one night? Once they love you for _you_ , it would be easier for you to come out as who you really are. It might even be a chance to educate them and help them grow, Koushi.”

Shoulders squaring subconsciously, Suga could feel the defensive edge in his voice as he spoke. “So, let me get this straight: you want me to dress up and pretend to be a _girl_ , call myself by my dead name, and act like I’m fine and happy while a party of transphobes misgender me the entire night, just because it might ‘help them grow’?” He clarified, tearing his hands back from his mother’s grasp. “Look, I can appreciate what you’re trying to do, but if my being trans is a deal-breaker to them right off the bat, then I can guarantee you that nothing is going to change just because they met me. You’re asking me to subject myself to _actual emotional abuse_ , all for a family of people I don’t even know who are disgusted by people like me.”

“Koushi!” His mother gasped, furrowing her brow. “We know that this isn’t ideal, but this is important to your father and I. We love you and want you to be happy, but you can’t avoid things just because you are already expecting the worst. This is my family, too, and your father and I would like to be there for them.”

“Well then _you_ can go. I’m not going to act like someone I’m not just because you don’t want to make them uncomfortable!” He grunted, chair scraping loudly against the floor as he headed for the stairs.

His father quickly stood as well, grabbing Suga’s wrist and preventing him from escaping. “Do not talk to your mother that way, Koushi. You are practically an adult, and, as an adult, you have to learn to make sacrifices for other people. Had we the proper time to inform them of your gender identity and allow them to meet with you and get used to the idea, we _would_ have. However, telling them now would risk causing contention at the wedding, and we will not stand for such selfishness taking away from your cousin’s special day.”

Suga flinched at the word ‘selfishness’, feeling a sharp rush of guilt down his spine. Was he...was he actually being immature about this? Having to spend the day hiding his identity and pretending to be someone he wasn’t was _awful_ , but he’d...been through worse, right? It was just one day, after all...It wouldn’t change the fact that he was a boy. _Just pretend, like a play_ , he told himself.

Eyes burning with frustrated tears despite his attempts to convince himself, Koushi shook his head to clear the thoughts away, letting his eyes fall shut. “Fine. I’ll do it.” He conceded, pulling his wrist back from his father and jogging to get up to his room so he could finally be alone. Suga threw the door shut and collapsed on top of his bed, face smothered in the pillows as he fought with the growing weight against his chest. He knew, deep down, that his parents did want what was best for him, but was it really that hard for them to understand? Was it honestly so difficult to see that he was still struggling every day? _Selfish_ ; the word rang out tauntingly in his head. Was that true? Was he just inconveniencing his parents with this?

Suga groaned into the pillow and rolled over, allowing his eyes to be weighed down by the sudden force of his exhaustion. It didn’t matter now, he’d think about it later.

‘Later’, though, came a bit sooner than expected.

Standing barefoot in front of the full body bathroom mirror, Suga grimaced. It had been a while since he’d worn anything but his binder over his chest, and the lacy, strapless bra around his upper body screamed _femininity_ , as did the matching panties underneath. Well, at least no one would be seeing that part—not that his full outfit was much better. It was a lilac, empire-waisted, cotton-candy tulle _nightmare_ reaching about an inch over his bruised knees. It took him a full 5 minutes to struggle into the thing—all the while subconsciously repeating his mantra of _clothes are genderless, you’re still a man_ , although he felt like he believed himself a little less every time. To make matters worse, his mother had insisted that he wear heels as well, and he realized quickly that he could barely walk in them, let alone _run_ if the situation went as badly as he expected it might. But, the proverbial cherry on-top was the makeup. At a quarter one, his mother had knocked at the door briefly, but, instead of apologizing and telling him he didn’t actually have to go, she guided him to sit down on the closed toilet seat while she painted his face with all types of foundations and powders, seemingly indifferent to the imploring look he was giving her.

By the time he was ready to go, Koushi couldn’t even recognize himself in the mirror, apart from the anxious, distressed look in his eye that immediately reminded him of his first-year. He avoided eye-contact with his reflection as much as he could as he gazed out the car window, praying for some kind of interruption, some delay to keep this from happening at all. He could rationalize that looking “traditionally feminine” didn’t change who he was inside, but being forced to come to terms with the fact that _this_ was how others perceived him, despite everything, made his stomach twist.

As they pulled up to the ornately decorated hall, his parents practically had to pull him from the backseat, his legs trembling too much to stand on his own. He thanked his lucky star that the ceremony was already beginning, so the other guests didn’t have to see the embarrassing way he stumbled into the pew like a newborn deer, the heels pinching his toes painfully. His parents sat on either side of him, effectively thwarting any potential escape attempts until the reception. With a deep sigh, he leaned back against the hard wooden bench, blurring his vision to watch the twinkling fairy lights turn to stars on horizon. Anything to help him forget the deep-seated discomfort in his gut. _Just a few hours_ , he reminded himself as the first notes of the processional rang out in the hall, _you just have to_ _make it through this_.

It was easy to space out during the ceremony. He clapped at the appropriate moments, turned to watch with the others as the bride marched down the aisle, but, inside his mind, he was far, far away. Although, it was impossible to avoid when the ceremony drew to a close and they were ushered deeper into the building towards the reception hall. Koushi stuck mostly near the back of the crowd, barely managing not to trip over his unsteady feet and get a faceful of gaudy red carpet. The crowd was fairly big, so he waited on the fringe and allowed himself to hope that he could just stick around by the buffet table to keep avoiding any potential interaction. As long as he could stay in his mind and pretend they weren’t actively misgendering him, then he could get through this with minimal emotional trauma. He’d managed a pretty good run so far too, mostly due to the fact that people were so focused on the bride and groom that they couldn’t care less about another teen “girl” looking on indifferently.

He should’ve expected that it wouldn’t last forever, though.

About an hour into the reception, a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder, startling him. The person, —an older man in his late 40’s to older 50’s with dark, messy hair—chuckled gruffly. “Sorry about that, sweetie. Just thinking that a pretty little thing like yourself shouldn’t be stuck alone on the sidelines all night. Wouldn’t ya like to dance?”

Suga cringed internally at the term of endearment, fighting the urge to slap the man’s hand away as he put on his patented polite-but-reserved smile. “Oh, I’m not much for dancing. I’d rather stay where I am, thanks.”

“Aw, no need to be shy! I’m sure you’d put all the other girls to shame.” The man grinned, his calloused thumb rubbing circles against Koushi’s exposed upper-arm. “Who’re you here for, anyways? Bride or groom?”

“I’m the bride’s younger cousin.” He replied tersely, gently but intently brushing the other’s hand away.

The man looked Suga over pensively for a second before laughing. “Well, I’ll be! You’re little Takako Sugawara, aren’t ya?” He asked, seeming not to notice the way Suga flinched at the mention of his dead-name. “Haven’t seen you since you was just a little thing, only 12 or 13!”

“Uh-huh.” Suga hummed disinterestedly, eyes catching his mother’s hair as he scanned the crowd. “Anyways, it’s been nice, but I should really get going.” He lied, brushing past the man towards where he’d seen the flash of silver signifying where his mother and father were sitting.

As soon as they were in earshot, the question seemed to fall from his lips. “Can we leave soon?” He asked, hopefully. “We’ve been here and seen everyone, and I’d really, really like it if I could get out of these clothes.”

“Nonsense, we haven’t even gotten to congratulate the bride and groom yet!” His father frowned. “Besides, we know you’ve just been standing by the buffet all afternoon. Can’t you just bear with it for a little while longer?”

“ _Dad_.” Suga pleaded, his anxiety rising. “Please.”

“Now, now, live a little, Koushi!” His mother smiled, patting him on the back in a way that only served to intensify his frustration. “You haven’t even spoken with anyone! You might get along with them if you just tried. Do it for me, okay?”

Suga sighed, knowing that they weren’t going to listen to him regardless of what he said or did. Honestly, he didn’t really care to interact with anyone else. All he wanted was to hole himself up and maybe play some games on his phone, and he wasn’t above hiding if it meant that he wouldn’t have to hear another word about his dead-name or how “pretty” he looked. Looking around, there wasn’t really a secluded corner in the reception hall, so the bathroom was probably his best bet if he didn’t want to be bothered.

Pushing his way through the crowd, he managed to locate the bathroom without anyone trying to talk with him, which he was pretty thankful for. But, just as he was about to go through the door, a cold hand closed around his arm, pulling him back.

“Takako!”

He let out a soft sound of shock, whipping around to see who was restraining him. It was an elderly woman with patchy dyed-blonde hair, giving him a rather confused look, he thought, considering that _she_ was the one detaining _him_.

“Uh, can I help you?” He asked, fighting with that fake smile. It was getting harder to keep up the facade by the minute, and he could feel his face muscles cramping up already.

“Dearie, that’s the _men's_ room.” She explained, looking somewhat embarrassed on his behalf. “The ladies’ room is down the hall.”

Koushi was silent, biting his tongue and letting the discomfort wash down him as he struggled to think of a decent excuse. “Oh, I guess I...didn’t notice?” He smiled anxiously, physically feeling how forced it must look. “My eyesight must be worse than I thought.”

“I’ll say!” She tittered, releasing his arm, finally. “You certainly don’t _look_ like a man!”

 _Slice_. Koushi thought, feeling a deep throbbing in his heart. All of his insecurities rising to the surface like smoke. He was speaking before he’d even considered his words, voice tight and defensive. “Oh? And what do ‘men’ look like?”

“Certainly not so pretty and delicate in a party dress, sweetheart. In fact, you’re the spitting image of your mother when she was a young thing. I’d recognize that face anywhere!” The woman beamed, giving him this prideful look that not only made him feel like vomiting. Thiis was it, this was the only way they’d ever love him, wasn’t it? It wasn’t about him, it was about _her,_ about Takako—a girl who didn’t even exist in the first fucking place. An idealized version of someone he wasn’t, no, _couldn’t_ be. He’d never be good enough for them, so why even try? Why bother?

He could feel tears building in his eyes but he willed them back, feeling his dysphoria hit him full force. “ _Excuse me_ .” He mumbled, turning on his heel and half running, half stumbling down the hall, away from the party and into the chilly evening air. He couldn’t do it anymore, he just _couldn’t_.

He took the first bus he could catch back to Torono, thankful that he at least had the foresight to stuff some cash in the band of his bra before he left. His cheeks were soaked with tears by the time he found himself stumbling through the familiar pathways of his hometown, taking care to avoid the main roads. He knew how concerning it would have looked: a teenage "girl" meandering through the streets alone, bright red heels gripped loosely at "her" side as “she” wandered barefoot across the concrete. At least the makeup was waterproof. _Little victories_ , he thought, bitterly, his feet sore and close to bleeding against the harsh concrete.

He found himself on Daichi’s doorstep without even thinking, his hand coming up to knock quickly three times.

“Coming!” Daichi called from inside, pulling the door open halfway to get a look at the uninvited guest. As they made eye-contact, Dachi stared at him uncomprehendingly for a handful of seconds, realization finally registering in his dark eyes like a slap to the face.

"Suga?! What-what are you _wearing_? You look so, so—" He stuttered, throwing the door open the rest of the way to get a closer look.

"If you say "pretty" right now, I will never, _ever_ forgive you." Suga warned, voice heavy with tears despite the fact that he’d only just stopped crying.

" _Miserable_ , actually _._ " Daichi clarified, frowning deeply as he seemed to register the redness around Koushi’s eyes. He placed a reassuring hand on the other's shoulder to guide him into the living room, pointedly averting his gaze out of fear of staring too much. "Have a seat on the couch; my parents are out so you don't have to worry about them seeing you. I'll make some tea."

Suga shied away, his hands pulling anxiously at the flowing fabric around his legs. "Actually, is it okay if I borrow some _not_ horrible clothes?” He asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable clad in the hideous dress his mother had chosen. “I should really wash all this stuff off my face, too…”

"Of course, Suga. You know where everything is." Daichi murmured, his eyes overwhelmed with sympathy as he watched Suga climb the stairs to his bedroom.

Once out of Daichi’s line of sight, Suga grabbed roughly at his hair, cursing how pathetic he must look. He tried not to dwell too much on it as he hastily stripped out of the dress and into some of Daichi’s sweats, but the heaviness was still there, settling harshly in the pit of his chest as he avoided looking at himself in the dresser mirror. When he was done, he balled everything up inside the dress, tossing it carelessly to the corner where he hoped he’d be able to forget about it as he headed towards the washroom.

The makeup took _forever_ to scrub off. He ended up having to dig through the Sawamura’s medicine cabinet to steal some of Daichi’s mother’s makeup remover, though the cloying, flowery scent only seemed to further solidify the feminine image that felt plastered to his skin. He rubbed at his eyes until they were red and burning, small clumps of mascara still sticking to his lashes that he had no hope of removing on his own. With a deep sigh, he made his way back downstairs to Daichi, whose head whipped around at the sound of his footsteps. He could only manage a small, weary smile as they met eyes, and Daichi turned quickly to pour him a cup of tea.

Settling down across from each other, no words were exchanged for a good few minutes, only the occasional clinking of their mugs as they set them down or picked them up from the coffee table. Daichi looked like he was bursting with questions, but holding back for Suga’s sake. The thought of it made him smile a little behind the rim of his cup.

Daichi swallowed, averting his eyes slightly as he spoke. "Do you...want to talk? We don't have to, obviously, but, if it'll help."

Suga glanced down, collecting his thoughts. "Well, you've obviously known that I'm trans since first year." He started uncertainly, getting a vague hum of agreement in response. "Yeah, well, even though my parents are okay with it, the rest of my relatives aren't." He laughed sardonically, scrubbing a hand across his face at the last vestiges of makeup there. "So, in order to go to a stupid wedding I didn't even _want_ to go to in the first place, my parents forced me to dress like a girl and act like I'd been living some happy little cisgender dream all these years, not fighting myself and others tooth and nail to be acknowledged for who I am—I just!!" He cut off with a loud groan, hunching over to bury his head in his hands. "I'm just so tired of being like this, Daichi."

Daichi was out of his seat in a second, kneeling before Suga to take his hands. "Hey, this is _not_ your fault." He argued, earning an exhausted look from Suga. "I mean it. I'm so sorry that things are like that, but it isn't _your_ fault that people are bigoted, self-centered assholes. You're kind and sweet and strong and _amazing_ , so you shouldn't have to pretend to be something you're not just to make other people happy, that's ridiculous." He ranted, squeezing Koushi's hands tightly.

"Thanks, Dai." He smiled softly, returning the gesture. "You've always known just what to say to me."

"Hey, I wouldn't be your best friend if I couldn't even do _that_." He grinned, white, straight teeth shining underneath the lamplight like pearls.

Koushi bit his lip. "Now the only thing to worry about is how pissed my parents are going to be when I get home tonight. I'm sure I'll have tinnitus for a week by the time they get through lecturing me.” He noted anxiously. He’d never really done anything like this before, so it was hard to imagine the punishment he’d be given. The only thing he knew for sure was that it _wouldn’t_ be good.

Daichi grimaced, his forehead creasing slightly in that way that made Koushi want to smooth it out with the pads of his fingers. "Just stay here tonight. I'm sure once they've thought it through they'll cool down and realize they were in the wrong."

"Mmh, I doubt it." He sighed. "Although, I will take you up on that offer to stay over. If I'm already in trouble, I might as well have fun with it."

Daichi smiled, pushing himself back to his feet. "Good, it's been way too long since we had a proper sleep-over, anyways." He chuckled, padding over to the corner shelf "So, are you feeling more like a B-list horror marathon, or Studio Ghibli?"

…

Waking up the next morning was difficult, especially after remembering the reason he had stayed over in the first place. Daichi always managed to do a good job of helping him forget his worries, but, in the orange light of morning peeking through the window, the balled-up lilac pile of fabric by the door looked loud and damning, a painful reminder of the talking to he'd be in for once he got home.

Daichi rolled over on the floor beside the bed, stretching his back with a satisfying pop. "Morning, Suga." He yawned, picking himself up out of the guest futon he'd insisted on taking last night, despite his friend's protests.

"Morning, Dai." He smiled, sitting up as he blinked the world into focus. "Sleep well?" He teased, flashing the other a devilish smile.

"Hey now, you know I can sleep pretty much anywhere. Plus, it’s not like it’s much different than what we do at training camp." Daichi mused, giving the other a playful shove to his shoulder. "More importantly, how are you feeling?"

Suga hummed, swinging his legs off the side of the mattress. "Eh. Better than yesterday, but worse than a lot of other days." He explained, backtracking as the corners of Daichi's mouth pulled downwards. "Being with you is a definite plus though. Thanks again for last night."

Daichi relaxed a fraction at that, brushing a hand through his short, bed-messy hair. "No problem. I mean, you're always looking out for the me and our team, so I'm glad to have a chance to do the same for you. You sure you're okay, though?"

Suga nodded, a subdued but genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Don't wanna go home but I guess I should face the music sooner or later. I turned off my phone during the bus ride back last night, so I'm sure they'll have some choice words for me when I get back."

"Want me to come? They'll be less likely to chew you out if I'm there to back you up." Daichi offered, already starting to pick out and set aside a couple of outfits from his dresser.

"Nah, you've already done more than enough for me.” He pointed out. “Although, I wouldn't be opposed to grabbing a late breakfast from Sakanoshita on the way there."

"You read my mind." Daichi winked, holding out a small stack of clothes. "Change into these and we'll go; just don't forget those clothes from yesterday, I don't need my parents getting the wrong idea about what I do while they're gone."

"As if you didn't invite an emotionally compromised, silver-haired beauty into your bed last night." Suga scoffed, winking seductively before he turned his back to change clothes.

Daichi snorted "'Silver-haired beauty'? Someone thinks a lot of himself."

"Jerk." Suga laughed, punching his shoulder playfully. "I'm just stating the facts."

Daichi relented, hand shielding his shoulder to prevent any other attacks. "Yeah, yeah. You're by far the most beautiful setter in the prefecture. I'm sure Oikawa ‘pretty boy’ Tooru cries himself to sleep every night at the knowledge that he's been outdone by Kageyama's _new_ senpai."

"I'd believe it. Have you _seen_ me?" Koushi smirked confidently, fixing his pants before doing a quick turn on his heel to send the other a smoldering look. "Oikawa couldn't touch this if he tried. I'd outdo him any day, anywhere—even in that _disaster_ I wore last night."

"I'll say." Daichi smiled warmly, running his thumb over Koushi's beauty mark. "You're definitely prettiest when you're smiling. Your parents could learn a thing or two about that."

Suga blushed. Hiding it behind a hand as he laughed. "Right? Honestly, I should have just gone in my regular clothes. Let's see who's a ‘pretty young lady’ then."

After collecting his things and writing a quick note to Daichi's parents, they set out. Ukai raised an eyebrow at the ostentatious ball of tulle and the heels under Suga's arm, but didn't comment other than critiquing the boys' choice of meat buns for breakfast, though it was lacking any real animosity. As they approached his house, Suga swallowed thickly, seeing the curtains to his parents room come apart briefly, his mother's face peeking out for a second. There was definitely no turning back now.

"You sure you don't want me to stay? I could lie about needing help with an essay or something." Daichi offered, a worried look settling over his features. Suga fought the urge to snort, suddenly remembering why their younger teammates called their captain ‘dad’ behind his back.

"I'll be fine; thanks, though." Suga smiled exhaustedly, giving Daichi a quick hug before he ascended his front steps. "See you in practice tomorrow?"

"Of course." Daichi waved, watching from the edge of the yard until Suga was safely inside.

His parents were waiting for him just beyond the door, standing cross-armed and looking as stern and lecture-ready as he expected them to as he toed off the shoes he'd borrowed from Daichi at the front door.

"Hi mom, hi dad." He mumbled sheepishly, feeling absolutely miniscule under their scrutiny as he stepped into the room. "Did you...have fun at the wedding?"

They didn't reply, but his mother took two purposeful strides towards him. Koushi flinched instinctively, expecting to be hit, but was shocked to feel arms encircling him. He dropped the dress and shoes to the floor in shock.

"Mom??"

His mother took a deep, calming breath, her voice sounding thin but relieved when she spoke. "Do you have any idea how worried you made us?"

Suga stumbled over his words, making eye contact with his father and noticing his tight, pale expression, as if he were clinging to the last shred of his resolve. "Uh, what?"

His mother pushed him to arm's length then, her eyes glassy with tears. "We couldn't find you anywhere! You disappeared all night with your phone off without leaving us with any clue as to where you'd gone!"

"I'm...sorry?" He breathed, averting his gaze. His mother seemed to crumble then, pulling his face against her chest.

"No, no, don't be....it was our fault, okay? We talked about it last night. We're so sorry, Koushi, we were the ones being selfish. We didn't even realize what we'd done until you were gone, we thought you...that you might have...." she sobbed, holding him close. "We were so _scared_."

"Mom..." He murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides.

"Son." His father interjected, approaching the two. "We cannot apologize enough for being so ignorant of your feelings, especially when you tried to explain. There is no excusing the things I said to you—the way I guilted you into attending, even though you were so uncomfortable. We should have just told them ourselves, but because we didn't want the confrontation, we let you get hurt." He rambled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You are the most important thing to us, Koushi. Not them, not their opinions: _you_. Your mother and I love you more than anything on this earth, and I just, I can't believe we were foolish enough to put you through this."

Suga was silent, tears welling in his eyes as he drank in his parents’ concern. He hesitated for a moment before returning his mother’s embrace with one arm, the other opening to invite his father to join. They stood huddled against each other for a while, a closeness they probably hadn’t shared since Koushi was still a toddler. He’d forgotten what his parents smelt like—how it felt to be held between their arms like something precious. It was...it was _really_ nice, actually, the feeling of coming home.

When they finally parted, Suga wandered upstairs to his bedroom, feeling dazed and warm as he threw himself down on the mattress. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he send Daichi a quick text telling him not to worry, because everything was fine now. From his bed, he could hear his father starting lunch downstairs, his mother bustling about hanging laundry on the line outside, humming the tune to some daytime drama she watched from time to time. The balled-up dress on his bedside chair was still harsh to look at, but he didn’t feel the same animosity towards it as he had before. He knew who he was, and he knew that, no matter what the others thought, he could name at least 3 people off the top of his head that would love him for _him_.

It might not always be easy, but it was getting easier these days, that was for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao the end is rushed as shit but!! i hope you liked it!!!!


End file.
